Watch out, Ice, don't slip on the awkward
by lovejonesy
Summary: Aka: Emil's Escapades in Failed Flirtation in which He Wins the Girl Anyways Because He's the Rare Sensitive One. Possible continuation...?


**A/N:** Impromptu writing - please forgive the cliches! Being creative under pressure is hard. :| I've also decided I don't like high school AU's. |D

Pairing: Iceland/Liechtenstein  
Rating: K except for the words damn and hell, but you'll live. Is it wrong to put it under K? I mean, come on.  
Names: Emil/Iceland, Lukas/Norway, Ryker/Denmark, Elise/Liechtenstein

* * *

Emil sucked in his breath, holding it tight in his chest while his head spun like a planet in high-speed rotation, simultaneously heavy with worries and lightweight as if he was suspended in zero gravity. Then, when he thought he might pass out from the lack of oxygen and the effort of attempting to steady himself, he noisily blew it out between his lips and sighed.

For the slight, walled-off teenager, this was an unusual display of emotion.

But nothing before had ever made him react in this nervous, self-conscious way. Not when his brother Lukas made annoying comments and subtly poked fun at him with his manipulations. Not even when Lukas' friend Ryker pranced around the gymnasium yelling that he'd seen what size Emil was while he was undressing in the locker room.

That had been a nightmare.

This was something hellish.

Once again, the Icelander blew that nervous breath, not daring to fidget with his clothes or smooth down his hair. Why would he even be smoothing down his hair, damnit? It's not like he was supposed to be meeting with anybody. No, he wasn't meeting anybody. But he didn't have to be meeting with her to be completely knocked off the careful, aloof balance he worked so hard to maintain.

No, not even Ryker could ruin him like she could.

He glanced around the hallways - discreetly, of course. He wasn't going to be caught looking like he cared about (her) something. But involuntarily, his damned eyes drew his damned gaze to the locker over by the music room, at the very end of the row.

Damn.

It was empty there.

N-Not like he was expecting anything!

Emil balled up his fists and kneaded them into his temples, a growl of frustration drawing attention to him.

("What was that kid worried about?")  
("That's odd, I've never seen him act like that.")

"Don't listen to them, Emil. I've seen you act like that plenty 'f times."

Emil whirled, caught up in his uncontrolled emotions, to see a lean, cool-tempered youth tilt his head to the side. Pale brown locks fell into his eyes, just the way the girls liked it. He spoke, "They jus' don't know what a tantrum you can throw. They've never seen you 't home."

Emil screwed up his own violet eyes in his trademark "reserved for big brother" glare. "Don't you go talking to them about anything I've ever done in a temper!" he warned.

Lukas' usually uninterested expression bore a hint of a smile, right at the corner of his mouth. "You're throwin' one now, if m'right..."

With his third sigh of the morning, Emil turned on his heel and stalked off, messenger bag slapping at his thighs.

He hoped - he dearly hoped that his face wasn't as red as he felt it was. But he couldn't help it, couldn't help the nagging thought at the edge of his mind (or in fact, more than the edge of it).

_If only he could see her once today!_

If only...  
If only...  
If...

With unintentional force, he slammed into the door of his first period and stood in the open doorway for a moment, unaware of how loud the effect had been. Then, he seemed to wake up, blushed for real, and hurried over to his desk. That Lukas. He thought he'd learned how to avoid him by now. But the guy wouldn't leave him alone!

Hunching slightly in his seat, Emil angrily doodled in the margin of his notebook. Apricots. He was drawing apricots. He blinked. Why was he drawing apricots? With more angry motions, he scribbled them out in black, and then realized where the inspiration was coming from.

Very minutely, he turned his head in the direction of the scent.

...Yes. So that's what it was.

Leaning close to the girl two desks behind him was another girl who didn't even have this class first period, chatting and whispering about something or other or whatever girls whispered about. Her bangs swayed into her eyes as she laughed, blocking out their elusive green with a screen of pale blond, but her open smile was still visible. Emil dared not turn his head any farther.

The girl giggled again - like bells, he swore! Or no, those metallic instruments couldn't even come close to capturing how alive and bubbling that laugh was, like, like... Suddenly she glanced in his direction—oh, no!

"Oh, no!" she cried softly. "Two minutes. I'll meet you after fourth period!"

Oh… no. She was just looking at the clock.

She straightened, said good-bye to her friend - who was that girl even? Emil didn't know - and then rushed past in a flurry of her uniform's skirt, bringing with her that delectable scent.

Emil inhaled.

That morning, he learned that Elise Vogel smelled of apricots.


End file.
